The Raven -- But Not

Shifting, changing scenes, different now

Above me hangs a weary crow

Flapping slowly, tiredly, not knowing

Exactly where he’s meant to go

But carried ahead on ink-dark wings

Something pulls me,

As it pulls him

To a small stone house

A small stone house where the door creaks open

And there’s a face, a weary face,

Bearded and pale, with eyes like marbles,

Drawing me in with a bone-like hand.

I look to the crow, I trust him more

He leads me into the wizard’s den

As I cross the threshold and turn about,

The man shuts the door and I’m locked in.

Then with a quiet smile he’s suddenly gone,

Vanishing like mist, leaving me alone.

The ink-black bird lands on my shoulder

With rustling wings

Black like the souls of evil things.

The sky-bright eyes reveal him as he sings

Of golden crowns and eagle’s rings

And I have the distinctive feeling

That I can trust this dark-omened being.

He brought me here, he knows me

He means for me to find

Whatever the wizard locked unseen

To bring it to light

To prove that it’s right

To show that not all is as it seems.